


The Stableboy

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Explicit Language, First Time, Incest, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-02
Updated: 2007-05-02
Packaged: 2018-09-30 19:19:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10169996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: Prince Regulus needs to learn to stay away from the stables. Regulus/Sirius





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

* * *

The stables of the Black Palace were located on the southeast corner of the lush grounds, surrounded by a grove of apple trees that opened up into the expansive riding fields, which were fenced in with a tall, white picket fence. The gardeners whitewashed the wooden fence once a week, twice if there was a thunderstorm, and so Prince Regulus Black, who found the stables to be a guilty pleasure, made sure that the gardeners were not whitewashing the day that he donned his riding wear and headed for the southeast corner.

Regulus Black, Prince of Wales, needed to learn to keep away from the stables. Once a week, he made his way down into the paddock and saddled up his personal white stallion, which he had tamed himself two years before. The stallion was gigantic, twenty-four hands at the shoulder with hooves like large saucers, and Prince Regulus made quite a show every week of brushing out the long mane and tail then braiding them painstakingly slowly. Every week, when he reached the end of the rough white plait, he ripped the silken scarf wrapped around his waist in half lengthwise and used each half to tie the knots in place. It seemed strange to him that the scarves tended to disappear each week, and so he had gotten into the habit of bringing a new one each time.

There were several stablemen that were employed in order to care exclusively for the steeds and mares in the stables. It was a part of their job description that they should be discreet, seen as infrequently as possible, though at the same time the horses must be expertly cared for and happy all the time. Regulus always found his stallion to be in fine health; thus, he had never complained once about the hired men. In fact, he had never seen any of them, save for one.

Regulus did not know his name, but he found that to be part of the boy’s charm. He was tall and graceful of limb and stature with black hair that shone fiercely in the sun. His eyes were such a blue that Regulus thought that, if only the boy would meet his gaze instead of throwing himself onto his knees anytime they happened to be in the same room, he would drown in them. His cheekbones could cut diamonds, and his jaw line was rigid and defined. The Prince of Wales wished that he could run his fingers over the light spray of black stubble splattered along that jaw, but he dared not, just in case someone was looking.

Today, however, no one was around when Regulus entered the stable, so he approached his white stallion with a small smile. “Good morning,” he whispered as he stepped close to the tall steed, pressing his cheek against the powerful neck of the horse and closing his eyes. “I hope you’re well…” He could feel the insistent pulse of the animal beating against his skin; with every beat, he felt as though one more royal concern was ripped away from him. His hand slid down the muscular shoulder of the horse, and he felt the ribcage with knowing fingers. “No sores, not a speck of mud on you…That stableboy must have his work cut out for him.”

At that, a black head of hair lifted, surprised, at the sound of the prince’s voice, and he cleared his throat softly. He was already on his knees, and so he bowed his head deeply and whispered, “Forgive me, Your Highness, for not announcing my presence before. I did not realise—” He cut off, not wanting to bore the Prince of Wales, and he flicked his gaze upward, attempting to see if Prince Regulus had even acknowledged his presence. When his eyes met a pair of leather-clad knees, his cheeks lit on fire, and he quickly dropped his gaze again.

It had always been a ridiculous notion, the stableboy’s secret fantasy of riding off on the back of that white stallion, clutching tightly to the waist of the next in line to the throne of England, but it was an image that had been plastered to the back of his eyelids since he had met the Prince of Wales three years previously. He took meticulous care of the Prince’s stallion, untangling his white mane and tail several times a day and brushing the dirt from his coat at least once before he tucked in for the night. He lived in the barn with one other stableman, who was older and slightly insane, and so he was serenaded in his fantasies each night by the old man’s senile babbling and cackling. He felt fingers hovering just centimetres above his hair, and he resisted the urge to tilt his head upward to make contact. He would be hanged for it. 

Regulus paused, his fingers almost touching the top of the stableboy’s head, and he gritted his teeth together before his fingers descended those daring inches and brushed against sweat-dampened black strands. It was almost a caress, and he heard the boy’s—he could hardly call him a boy; he was probably older than Regulus was by at least a year—breath hitch in his throat before his fingers clenched in that hair and he jerked that fistful of hair back so the boy would look him in the eyes. “You,” Regulus hissed, and he frowned as the hired boy automatically shifted his gaze away. “Look me in the eye.” His tone was stony, unwavering, and when, a moment later, those blue eyes flicked up to meet his, Regulus stared fiercely into them. “Tell me your name.”

The stableboy’s heart leapt into his throat when he was forced to meet the prince’s eyes, and his mouth dropped open slightly from the force of his head being held back. He was dressed simply in dirty white canvas trousers and no shirt at all, as it had been discarded in the heat of the morning. He was fit from stable work, his skin bronzed from the sun, and he thought it must be a trick of the light, but it seemed for a moment as though the piercing gaze of the prince traversed his muscular frame before meeting his gaze again. “Y-Your Highness,” he gasped, and he took a deep breath. “It’s Sirius, Your Highness.” A light sheen of sweat broke out over his chest and stomach, beading in the dark trail of coarse fur leading from his bellybutton into the canvas trousers. He swallowed convulsively as the fingers in his hair loosened their hold. 

The corner of Regulus’s mouth twitched, and his fingers spread-eagled in that dirty hair, sifting it between them, and he slid his fingers to the back of the boy’s head. “I see you often, Sirius,” he stated regally, though it was in a very quiet tone. He could not afford anyone overhearing his conversation with the lowly stableboy. “All the other stablemen hide from me, you know. Why are you so different?” It was not a question he wanted answered, and this must have been obvious, for Sirius merely drew his bottom lip nervously between his teeth. “Do you watch me, stableboy? Do you watch me ride my stallion?”

“You ride magnificently, Your Highness,” Sirius breathed shakily, unable to stop it, but the words did not seem to displease the prince, so he continued. “You have excellent posture and unrivalled control over the animal. No one else could ride him like you can, Your Highness, not with your power and control and grip…” The older he got, the more he found himself staring more at Prince Regulus’s thighs—how they clutched the stallion when he rode bareback, how they flexed and tensed in their leather prison—and the more he found himself dreaming of them. The prince’s eyes unmistakably raked over him again, and he squirmed slightly under the other’s gaze as the prince’s hand slipped around the back of his head and lifted upward. He was dragged onto his knees, and he averted his eyes again out of shyness, but he found himself face-to-face with Prince Regulus’s crotch. It brought a familiar stirring to Sirius’s loins, and he felt heat in his cheeks as he cursed those canvas trousers for their special ability of giving everything away. He could only hope the Prince of Wales did not look, and he did his best to keep him from doing so by looking up and meeting the other’s eyes again.

“I do, do I?” Regulus whispered, and he moved his hand beneath Sirius’s chin. The stubble was rough against his fingers, and he smiled very lightly before he tilted the boy’s chin upward so far that he forced Sirius to his feet. Sirius nodded almost frantically; he could smell Prince Regulus’s breath, scented heavily of mint, and he grunted softly, involuntarily, as the prince’s hand seemed to come out of nowhere and plant itself firmly on his sweaty lower back before pulling their bodies together. “We’re alone, I trust?”

Sirius gulped and nodded, not sure where to put his hands. Prince Regulus’s were now both on his back, his fingertips dipping half a centimetre into the hem of the canvas around his waist. He settled on resting his hands on the prince’s biceps, positive that his heartbeat was echoing in the spacious barn, and he wanted to die. The prince knew he was aroused now, there was no doubt, and he began to chew of his lower lip again. “Stop that.” Regulus’s left hand shot up and tugged the abused lip from between the other’s teeth, and he slid the pad of his thumb over the moist skin. Sirius shivered in his hold, and the hand that had been lifted ran slowly back down to Sirius’s lower back. His palm slid over every muscle, savouring the swell and decline of each mound; he could feel the stableboy melting against him. “When’s the last time someone touched you?” Regulus hissed against Sirius’s ear, suddenly pressing flush against him, and his right hand slid down completely into those trousers. There was nothing underneath, and he gripped a firm buttock in his hand. “When’s the last time you took these trousers off for anyone?”

Sirius’s eyes were squeezed tightly closed now, and he was not sure when his hands had made their way to the prince’s chest. His cock was throbbing between them, compressed between their tightly-pressed bodies, and he wished more than anything that the prince would become aroused, too, so he would not be so embarrassed. “I-I haven’t, Your Highness,” he gasped softly, and when he felt the prince’s lips on his ear, he leaned completely against him. “Your Highness…” This was whispered against the prince’s clothed shoulder, and he shuddered as his arse was squeezed again. “Is this okay?”

Regulus’s fingers slipped around to untie the knotted string at the front of the trousers, and he caught the article of clothing a moment before it pooled at Sirius’s feet. Instead of letting them freely fall, he eased them down over Sirius’s hips, and Sirius whimpered very softly as the warm morning air caressed his bobbing erection. The trousers finally fell, and he jerked back a little to meet the prince’s eyes. The look shared between them was indescribably intense, though it was Sirius who broke the gaze, and he looked around wildly, searching for somewhere they could get comfortable, somewhere they could escape the openness of the middle of the barn. There was a large haystack in one stall, and he gestured toward it with a quick motion of his head. Regulus nodded, and he pulled Sirius into the stall, closing the door before he pushed the nude stableboy down into the scratchy hay. He crouched low over him, the supple, worked leather of his outfit snagging a few pieces of the straw as he stared into the other’s face. “You want me to touch you, Sirius?”

“Your Highness, I could only hope,” Sirius gasped, and he spread his legs wantonly as a soft, uncalloused hand slipped between them. Fingers ghosted over his arousal and slipped downward to cup his testicles, causing a few drops of pre-come to leak from the head of Sirius’s cock, and Regulus grinned at him before he withdrew his hand. Sirius whimpered softly before he was being kissed by the Prince of Wales, his lips descending on those of the stableboy, and Sirius opened his mouth against Regulus’s. Sirius was very inexperienced, and so he allowed the prince to lead, his tongue mimicking the other’s movements, and he arched his back against the haystack when a teasing hand ran over his thighs.

Regulus suddenly lifted himself off of the stableboy, hearing footsteps, and he looked, panicked, out of the stable door. “It’s only the old man,” he sighed, and he looked back over to Sirius, who was doing his best to hide himself. Regulus’s eyebrows knitted and he thought carefully for a few moments before he gestured to Sirius. “I’ll get your trousers, but I need to go. If you keep taking care of my stallion the way you have been, I will be back.”

 

Prince Regulus did not return for several weeks, not even to ride the horse, but Sirius would not have known. The encounter with the Prince of Wales had made him incredibly skittish, and so he did his very best to remain hidden from sight. He cared for the prince’s stallion as diligently as he had ever done, but he was careful to avoid the barn as much as he could, preferring to work in the hay lofts. He knew that the prince would not really come back as he had promised, and three weeks after their tryst, he had given up completely. Bent over what seemed to be an endless sea of unstacked hay in a loft in the back of the barn, he sighed and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand despite the fact that it was a very cold, rainy afternoon. They were in the midst of a cold snap, and Sirius was dressed warmly in an old knitted jumper and woollen trousers, though he owned no shoes, and so his toes were red and appeared raw. Thunder rolled above the barn, and Sirius sighed, throwing down his pitchfork and moving to the inner wall, where he had been throwing the hay, and he lay down upon the stack, closing his eyes. Why had the prince not come back? It bothered him immensely.

He was just beginning to drift off to sleep, half-buried in the warm straw, when he felt warm hands on his face, pushing his hair back, and his eyes shot open. It was very dark in this part of the hay loft, especially since there was no sun shining through the doorway at the far end, and so he squinted up, expecting the old man. “What?” he growled, but then there were lips, familiar lips, pressed against his, and he gasped into the prince’s mouth. Where had he come from? Why had he not heard him climbing the ladder into the loft? He decided suddenly that it did not matter, and his arms wrapped around the prince, his anger ebbing away as he felt the soft leather clothing him. “Your Highness, you’ve come…”

“Not yet,” Regulus hissed in Sirius’s ear, and Sirius shivered as he felt those hands on his trousers again. He lifted his hips, the stiff straw beneath his nude arse making him whimper softly when his trousers were removed, and the prince’s hand shoved his shirt up high on his torso before he leaned down to kiss his chest. “Did I have you concerned? You must forgive me…Affairs of the state needed to be tended to…”

“Not at all,” Sirius breathed, and he slipped his hands from Regulus’s back to his chest. “If I may, Your Highness?” If his erection had been prominent before, it was nothing until the prince nodded, and Sirius’s hands immediately began undoing the many clasps and buttons of the leather wrapping the object of his desire. He fumbled with the locks and clasps until the prince pushed his hands impatiently away and undressed himself. Sirius cursed the dim light, wanting to see Regulus in his full glory, but there was no use complaining even if he had wanted to. The prince moved over him, pressing naked into Sirius’s body, and Sirius moaned gently when lips attached to his neck and began to suckle a path downward. He spread his legs invitingly, thighs quivering as they lifted to either side of Regulus, but when he felt fingers probing against his anus, his breath halted and he grunted very softly in question.

“Shhh,” Prince Regulus coaxed, and he reached into the pocket of his discarded clothes. He searched for a moment before withdrawing something Sirius could not make out in the dark, and there was the soft pop of a cork before Regulus’s hands disappeared momentarily. Then he was pushing his tongue insistently into Sirius’s mouth, and Sirius was whimpering and angling his arse upward as fingers, this time slick with what he presumed to be oil, probed his opening. “Relax, Sirius. We’re in no hurry here…”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Sirius whispered shakily, and he allowed his body to fall limp against the haystack. Regulus was very gentle with him, sensing his nerves, and he kissed an irregular path around the stableboy’s chest and stomach while his fingers teased and tickled, but they never sought to make violation. Sirius was painfully aroused, and he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes in an obvious attempt to control himself during these maddening ministrations. Regulus’s free hand reached up and fingered through Sirius’s silky hair, this time clean and free of dirt, and he seized it with strong fingers.

“Can you roll over for me?” Regulus breathed, and Sirius did not even think to decline. Obedient, he rolled onto his stomach, finding it much easier to relax in this position, and though the straw was uncomfortable against his stomach and erection, he found that difficult to notice as something that was definitely not fingers was pressing against his arse. He opened his mouth to inquire, but Regulus leaned over him just as the blunted point of the mystery object, oiled as Regulus’s fingers had been, pushed slightly into him. “Horses are the most precious, beautiful creatures on earth, Sirius. There is nothing more graceful, nothing more powerful in appearance or will…Can you be a stallion for me, Sirius? Can you be as graceful as my prized white steed?”

Sirius did not quite understand, but he knew he had no choice. “Of course, Your Highness,” he said into the straw, and he lifted his arse into the air as Regulus moved a hand under his hips and pulled them upward. His legs slipped in the hay, spreading them further apart, and he gave a soft yelp into his cushion as the object, irregularly shaped, pushed deep inside him and remained in place. “Ah! What—”

“It’s your lovely tail,” Regulus whispered against his ear, and a moment later, Sirius felt a length of horse hair lying over his back and an uncomfortable tug in his bowels from the shifting of the tail’s anchor. “It’s lovely and black, just like your hair…”There was a warm breath over Sirius’s thighs, and he moved to look over his shoulder. Sure enough, there was a tail flung over his back, protruding from his arse, but that was not what he was concerned with. No, Regulus was bending low over him, and their eyes met for a moment in the darkness before a warm, rough tongue swiped across Sirius’s taint, and Sirius shuddered deeply. The tongue licked again, and he lifted his hips even higher into the air, his testicles and cock hanging heavily in the cool breeze.

There was that tongue again, and Sirius lifted his head into the air with an elongated cry. To his utter disappointment, Regulus had ceased touching him again, and he tried to look back, but then something metal and stiff was pressing lengthwise against his mouth. “Open,” Regulus demanded, and Sirius knew he could not disobey. His mouth dropped open and accepted the metal rod as it was inserted, and he realized a moment before he heard the buckles snap to either side of his face and behind his head that it was a horse’s bit. There was then a harsh jerk from behind, though Regulus was not touching him, and he reared back with the force of the prince jerking on his reins. He was on his hands and knees now, frightened and confused but inexplicably horny in this situation. He felt the prince’s warm thighs on his sides, and he registered a split second before it happened that Prince Regulus was mounting him. He felt the prince’s testicles sag heavily onto his lower back a moment before he sat down completely, and he leaned forward, the hand that was not clutching the reins moving up to stroke Sirius’s hair. “No talking—my stallion does not talk.”

Sirius opted to give a whinny of annoyance, and he pawed at the hay with his right hand. He felt incredibly silly until the felt Regulus’s hard cock bounce against his spine, and he forgot about this being ridiculous at all. Both hands were on the reins now, and Regulus caused Sirius to rear up onto his legs, almost toppling them, but Sirius had excellent balance. He brought them back down safely, and he pawed the ground again before he bucked the prince off his back completely. It was completely on accident, and he felt the colour drain from his face as the prince landed heavily in the scattered straw. He opened his mouth to apologise, but the prince was rounding on him, and he found himself speechless. Prince Regulus bent low for something in the dim light, and Sirius squeezed his eyes closed, expecting to be slaughtered at that moment with a sword, but then there was a loud, “Crack!” and pain flooded from the spot on his arse where Regulus had struck him with a riding crop. Sirius bucked, and he was whipped again, but this time the pain was welcomed, and he moaned gently against his bit while offering his behind, pleading, to his lover.

_Crack! Crack! Crack!_ The sound of the riding crop leaving large welts on his flesh rang through the empty loft, and he heard the prince moan behind him as he struck him for the sixth time. There was then the sound of the crop being thrown away, and Sirius was suddenly confronted with a large, heavy cock inches from his mouth. He glanced up to Regulus, who reached down and unbuckled the harness holding the bit in Sirius’s mouth, and the metal hit the wooden floor with a loud crash a second before Sirius’s mouth was open and swallowing the thick length offered to him. He felt awkward and clumsy, but Prince Regulus knew what he was doing. He held Sirius’s head in place and thrust his hips repeatedly so his erection was engulfed by the stableboy’s sweet mouth again and again. “Touch yourself,” he commanded breathily, and his deep blue eyes saw the outline of Sirius’s arm moving downward to jerk his cock in short, controlled strokes. “Yeah, just like that…”

Sirius groaned heavily against the thrusting arousal in his mouth, and he ran his tongue all over it every chance he got. The prince tasted musky but clean, as though he had taken a perfumed bath that morning to prepare for this encounter, and Sirius could not help moving to rest just on his knees while his hands slipped around to seize the firm buttocks he had longed to touch for so long. Regulus reached down, his thrusts ebbing away, and he seized his own cock, pulling it from Sirius’s mouth. He rubbed the swollen head over the boy’s lips before he pulled back, and Sirius moaned at the loss. “No, no, we’re not done,” the prince whispered, and he strode elegantly around the stableboy before he knelt down behind him and seized his pretty tail. There was a soft popping sound as he jerked on the tail and the anchor holding it in popped out, making Sirius yelp, but then there was oil trickling over his opening, and he felt the equally-slippery head of Regulus’s erection pressing against his arse, and he spread his thighs a little wider as the prince moved to push deep into him.

Sirius had never known pain like this. Sure, he had experienced pain that was much more intense, but this was a deep, unsettling pain unlike any he had ever felt. He squeezed his eyes closed and buried his face in the straw again, though his cock never went limp, and he reached down between his legs to masturbate as Prince Regulus pumped in and out of him in slow rhythm. As Regulus found his preferred angle and speed, Sirius found that it was not hurting nearly so much any more, and when he jerked his own hips slightly in response to the prince pushing into him, he found that shivers of pleasure ran through him. “Your Highness,” he gasped, and his free hand clutched a fistful of the hay beneath him. “Please…Please use the crop…Ah!” He squeezed a few drops of pre-come from his dick and began thrusting back to meet the prince on his every thrust.

Regulus grinned at the request and reached to the floor, seizing the leather crop and lifting it high into the air before bringing it down hard with a resounding slap. The stableboy yelled beneath him, and he seized the other’s hip with his free hand. He pounded into him with abandon, each thrust slick and smooth, and he realised that he had not called the boy by his given name since they met a few weeks previously. “Sirius,” he hissed, and the stableboy whimpered loudly beneath him. “Sirius, Sirius, Sirius…” It turned into a chant, a desperate mantra, and he seized the other’s hips to lift them into the air.

Sirius began to jerk his cock more furiously than ever, sweat beading on his forehead and dripping down onto his cheeks and from his chin. Regulus kept rubbing against this one spot deep inside of him that forced a fierce shudder through his body, and he knew that he was not long for this world when the prince leaned down and licked the back of his ear. His own name was whispered into his ear one more time, and then Sirius’s whole body gave an almighty tremor before he came hard into his own hand, semen flooding from the end of his cock and dripping from between his fingers into the straw. His arse clenched around the thick erection buried deep inside, and he heard Prince Regulus groan before he pulled out of Sirius and rolled his shaky form onto its back. “You enjoy that?” he asked, moving over the stableboy and staring deeply into his eyes.

“M-more than anything, Your Highness,” Sirius whimpered, and he accepted the kiss bestowed upon his lips before he watched the prince move up over him, on his knees above his head, and Sirius had only a moment to figure out what would happen before the prince spread his legs and lowered his hips so his arse pressed to the stableboy’s lips. 

“Fuck me with your tongue, you filthy little whore,” the Prince of Wales growled, and his eyes fluttered closed when he felt the other’s mouth slide open against his arse and a deft little tongue slide out to give him a taste. The tip of that tongue swirled around the pucker, then, to Regulus’s great pleasure, prodding the opening in the centre and pushed inside. The prince fisted his cock as quickly as he could, stroking himself as fast as he could without hurting himself. This had always been a fantasy, but he had never wanted it to be a woman licking his arse—no, it had to be a boy—and so to finally have it coming to life was more erotic than he could ever have imagined. Sirius’s breath tickled his balls gently, and he moved his other hand to run through the stableboy’s hair as he clenched his buttocks together, and when Sirius’s mouth suddenly and unexpectedly moved upwards to take his testicles in his mouth, Prince Regulus gave a loud cry and jerked up onto his knees, aiming just above the other’s head as he came hard. Sirius suckled his balls until he was spent, when his mouth dropped from them and he gazed up at the Prince of Wales with a starstruck expression. Regulus took a deep, calming breath before he looked down at the boy lying on the straw. “Hi…”

Sirius groaned and shifted a little as the prince lay down atop him, and he wrapped his arms up and around his shoulders. He was slightly trembling—there were small, sharp pains emanating from his arse—and he flushed a little before burying his face against the other’s shoulder. “Hi,” he breathed against the collarbone, and he smiled when he felt a few kisses pressed against his hair. “Your Highness, I am so honoured…I could never ask for more, sire…”

“It’s Regulus to you,” the prince whispered, and he pushed the other back into the straw so he could lean in to kiss him properly. He slid his mouth open over Sirius’s, and when the musky tongue darted out to meet him, he smiled into the kiss and gave the other a little squeeze. The kiss broke, and he ran a finger down Sirius’s cheek as he said, “I won’t wait so long before coming back next time…”

Sirius nodded and watched as the prince rose from the hay, plucking a few stray pieces from his hair, and he moved to bow on both knees as the prince dressed. “If it pleases you, Your Highness, perhaps I will seek you out next time I visit the castle?” He hoped beyond hope that Regulus would find it to be a pleasing offer, and he was not disappointed. The prince tilted Sirius’s head upward and kissed him on the forehead before giving a nod, and Sirius felt himself blushing.

“That sounds lovely. Perhaps next time, we can take a bath together in the royal chambers…” He winked and grinned at the obvious excitement in the other boy, and he started to leave, now fully dressed, before he paused and looked over his shoulder. “Come here, Sirius,” he commanded regally, as he watched, stony-faced, as the stableboy rose to his feet and strode naked over to him, head bowed. Regulus reached out an arm and slipped it around his shoulders, drawing him very close and meeting his gaze. “If you don’t take care of my stallion the way you have been, you will be punished.” The corner of his mouth twitched, and he felt his heartbeat speed up when Sirius leaned in and pressed a kiss to his mouth with an impish little grin. He returned the kiss before reaching up to tuck a lock of messy, hay-filled hair behind Sirius’s ear, then he patted the stableboy on the arse. “Wait for me?”

“Forever, Your Highness,” Sirius breathed, and he watched wistfully as the prince made his way back to the castle in the rain.


End file.
